


Fire

by fleurofthecourt



Series: Love Elements [1]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: F/M, Figurative Language, M/M, Metaphors, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2013-08-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:52:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurofthecourt/pseuds/fleurofthecourt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Semi connected 100 Word Vignettes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This is rated M because I'm paranoid; it probably doesn't need to be. 
> 
> This is not my usual writing style, so...sorry if that's what you're looking for, but it's not here.

_Juliette_

The scent of a blown out candle wafts through the air, lingering as a reminder of a flame that’s been extinguished. 

The memory of it ghosts against his skin as he sleeps, bathing him in the strangely comforting aroma of light vanilla perfume that tries, in vain, to cover up the smell of wildlife. 

He wakes and reaches for her, but she isn’t there. 

No one is. 

The weight of the empty bed still crushes him. 

He wants the smoke to surround him again, clouding him from this miserable reality. 

But the smoke is gone now. Only the scent lingers. 

 

 _Monroe_

He brushes his finger back and forth above the flame, in anticipation. 

He wants to let his skin be razed by claws, by teeth, with abandon. 

He knows it’s going to be dangerous. 

Of course, that’s the whole idea. 

They both feel it, that faint glowing ember that's about to consume them whole. 

Eager, willing, his finger presses into the fraying thread of the wick. 

Calloused, fumbling hands slide along him, searching for buttons and elastic. 

Blue fire licks against every inch of his skin, each mark searing him like a brand. 

The pain of it is its own reward. 

 

 _Rosalee_

It feels like hot wax stinging against scratch after scratch. 

Her gentle words and steady hands soothe against its burn. 

The flame’s wavering is static --there's no threat of it going out. 

The air around it lacks the heat of consumption, but warmth floods him. 

She was never what he expected. 

Her fingers tread through the worst of it, trying to repair all his wounds -- wounds he didn't know were there. 

Things that are missing. Things he’s trying to replace. Things that are equal but aren’t. 

Her lips breeze against his cheek, saying she understands. 

She’s been there too.


End file.
